My personal savior
by samanddianefan10
Summary: A little conversation Daryl and Carol might have had after he rescued her from the cell. somewhat au


It wasn't his job. That was all Daryl thought of as he pulled Carol out of the dark, dim, dusky cell. It wasn't his job to protect her, to watch over her, so why did it seem like she was his responsibility? He knew that it was everyone's job to watch out for themselves- that was the unspoken rule of the group. But whenever Carol was in trouble, it seemed like he was there to pick her up, and it wasn't fair.

After he found her hair band, he'd just assumed the worst. He was skeptical by nature, but this whole Walker ordeal brought out his skepticism something terrible. It was the survival of the fittest, and he knew that he was probably the strongest one of the group. So why was taking care of Carol suddenly his problem?

It wasn't, and that's exactly what he would tell her once he knew she was okay. He'd had about all he could take with looking after anyone else, and Carol would just have to learn to stand on her two feet. It shouldn't be this way. He'd looked for Sophia, more so than anyone else. His hands were clean. If Daryl had been trying to find redemption within himself, then his efforts to find Sophia should have taken care of that.

"You came," Carol smiled weakly as Daryl bent down to look her over.

"Ssh. You don't want them to find us, do you? Think, damn it!" Daryl growled as he looked her over. She didn't appear to be worse for her ordeal, so for that simple matter alone then he should just walk away.

If it were only that easy. "I knew it would be you," Carol responded calmly.

"What the hell are you talking about? Have you gone crazy?"

"I knew you would find me. I knew I wouldn't die in here. I knew you wouldn't let me."

Daryl pounded the wall of the cell with his fist. "So that's what I am to you? I'm your own personal savior? I'm your Jesus Christ? Well look how well he looked over you."

She said nothing. She knew better than to fight with him when he was like this. He was scared, even Carol could see this. "Thank you."

"Don't you be thanking me," he hissed as he knelt down to stare at her intensely. "I don't want your thanks. I don't want your pity. I don't want whatever it is you're offering."

Still she watched him. He wished she would fight back. She could be so...irritating.

'Didn't you hear me? I said I don't want anything from you! You could have gotten me- us- killed so many times. You're a real liability, you know that?"

Carol took his hand, and while he flinched, he didn't entirely pull back. "Your brother is proud of you, you know."

"What do you know of my brother? You don't know what you're talking about. For all we know the walkers got him."

"Hey," she said softly. "It's me. I know about the walkers, remember?"

He said nothing, but still watched her.

"Do you believe he's still out there?" she asked.

"I don't know, you tell me. It's a nutfarm out there, what chance did you all give him? Really, what chance did you give him? Tell me that, if you know everything."

"For what it's worth I believe he's still out there," Carol smiled.

"Did I ask you?"

"No, but I think you know it's true."

"Yeah, you're the real expert on me. Who do you think you are anyways?"

"A friend."

"I ain't got no friends."

"We could all use a friend. Even you and I."

"We ain't friends. We're survivors. That's all we are."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. To her surprise, as well as his, he didn't pull back. He flinched, but he didn't pull back.

"I know we are. And for that I should thank you."

"I told you you don't owe me nothin'. We're just survivors."

"That we are," she agreed.

He stared at her. He didn't say anything, instead he just lifted her up and carried her out to show her to the rest of the group.

She let herself rest in his arms, the first real rest she'd had in awhile. She knew he had his walls, and he had his reasons, but as long as she had him, she knew she would never be alone. He didn't even complain when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, careful not to mess with his bows.

Daryl was right- they were survivors. Whatever happened next, she knew that that counted for something. It had to, right?


End file.
